There's Something About Ginny
by HadasL
Summary: A gift Ginny inherits from Tom Riddle proves to be a curse as Voldemort does all he can to attain it, with something up his own sleeve as well...
1. Chapter 1

_'He touched me, so I lived to know_

_That such a day, permitted so,_

_I groped upon his breast._

_It was a boundless place to me,_

_And silenced, as the awful sea_

_Puts minor streams to rest._

_And now, I'm different from before,_

_As if I breathed superior air,_

_Or brushed a royal gown;_

_My feet, too, that had wandered so,_

_My gypsy face transfigured now,_

_To tenderer renown.'_

**He Touched Me, So I Lived to Know by****Emily Dickinson**

Diagon Alley was unnaturally silent. Only the hurried sound of the footsteps of apprehensive wizards permeated the dusty stillness, stealing the façade of abandonment from the alley. An atmosphere of despair lay over to the place like weeds above an unkempt grave, reflecting the wizarding community at the time. Terror invaded the souls of every witch and wizard, only enhanced by the ambiguity of their enemy. Anybody could be working alongside He Who Must Not Be Named – willingly, consciously, or neither of the two.

It was to such a sight that Harry and his girlfriend entered as they walked through the arch of bricks. Though far less crowded than the year before, it was still teeming with dozens of wizards buying school supplies for their children's next Hogwarts year. Despite the attack only weeks before and Dumbledore's death, Hogwarts was still a safe haven relative to the warring world outside it.

Harry and Ginny were at Diagon Alley solely because she was out of quills. Ginny had insisted on going alone, yet Harry was immensely overprotective of his girlfriend. His insistence upon following her around, though understood by the youngest sister of six older brothers, also greatly irritated her. "Stop acting like I'm some damsel in distress!" she had yelled at him once out of frustration, yet immediately softened when he had explained that he simply didn't want to lose her too. Ginny was torn, knowing that while Harry needed a supporting, comforting relationship, he could also barely bear the burden of having yet another thing upon his mind, his past being filled with the deaths of those he loved, upon which guilt hung upon him like a criminal hung upon a gallows rope. More and more, Ginny felt as though they had made a mistake when they came back together, yet could not bear to break the heart of the boy who lived.

They walked together in an uncomfortable silence, upon Harry's insistence maintaining a certain distance when they were together in public, so as not to raise suspicions. They were just passing by Madam Malkin's shop when Shacklebolt suddenly apparated in front of them, and pushing Harry and her into a less crowded corner he hurriedly whispered: "We've just received word, a death eater attack is about to take place in Diagon Alley, other aurors will be here as fast as –" he was interrupted by the sudden sound of 12 death eaters apparating into the alley, and the cries of a panicking crowd reached Ginny's ears.

The dark cloaks immediately filled the alley, raising their wand and cursing all those in sight. Few wizards attempted to fight back – instead, most stampeded towards the exit, people being crushed under other's feet as they ran for their lives.

It took a moment before it dawned upon Ginevra that a death eater attack was taking place. Instinctively she pulled out her wand, ready to join the others in the fighting, yet Harry would have none of it, overprotective of his girlfriend. "Ginny, get out of here!" Harry shouted, as he quickly ducked to evade a passing spell. Apparently, the two hadn't been identified by the death eaters yet, who were mostly concentrated upon the stampeding mass, though a few turned their attention to those at the sidelines as well. "But, Harry-" she began, wishing to fight along side him. She dodged a spell of bright green light that was aimed right at her, and then by the pleading, frightened look in his eyes, the young witch understood why it was more for his own sake than hers that it was best to comply. She looked back at the chaos of flying spells, screams and dark cloaks, and then swiftly broke into a run.

Looking back again, Ginny saw that several death eaters she could not recognize were following her, and fear coursed through her veins as she realized that she would not be able to fight all of them off alone. She fled frantically through the maze of small alleyways and paths, not bothering to watch where she was going as she struggled to escape through the dark, crooked streets. The shouts and screams were only faint sounds in the distance, yet the sound of running death eaters still behind her, when luck failed the young witch and she lost her balance upon the ancient stone floor. She would have crashed to the ground were it not for a strong hand that deftly caught her before she fell, enveloping her waist and pulling her towards him.

Upon seeing who it was, her blood froze. Standing in front of her, a smirk upon his face, was Draco Malfoy. For a moment they both just stayed together, their eyes locked like two tangueros in a passionate dance, yet their gaze quickly turned to one of fright as Ginny heard footsteps behind them and Draco saw men in black cloaks approach. Without thought, he quickly pushed her into the shadows, concealing them both with his black cloak only when he pushed her against a cold, stony wall, and bent down to kiss her, ceasing her struggles beneath him.

They both melted into each other in the most unlikely of places, passion replacing fear. And then, as suddenly as it had come, it ended with the dying of the footsteps into the distance. It took her a moment to realize what had just occurred. For a few minutes they said nothing, simply holding one another till they could hear nothing but their gasping, frightened breaths.

Ginny was in shock… Draco had saved her life - Draco Malfoy, in a death eater's cloak, had kissed her… and it felt good, she thought, before she could stop herself. She looked into his confused eyes, wishing to know his reasons, and suddenly, a light that had been dampened since her first year rekindled; she felt something, something she knew had never made its presence known before... A sort of a tingling sensation, an overwhelming sense of understanding... And then, she knew.

"You don't want to be a death eater, do you, Malfoy?."

His face, if possible, appeared even more shocked.

"You're between the devil and the blue sea and are too frightened to deal with any of them – too scared to leave your father and do what you think is right, or to actually go along with your father's plans. You feel guilt, not pride, in managing to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts, hence you will never be one, Malfoy, and you know that. You're too scared to kill and you're too scared to leave – just look at you here, hiding on the side of the battlefield, trying to do as much good as you can and no more evil than you must. Others are already suspicious - you will be killed by our side or your father's; you need to make a choice. You feel weak, frightened and confused – but it can't go on forever."

Both suddenly horrified, Draco simply dropped her from his arms and to the ground, running away from her in fright, scared of the knowledge he had just attained. It took a while till the trembling witch could stand up, and pale, confused, and oddly void of other emotion, she returned to the now vacant Diagon Alley that was once a battlefield, and apparated back to the Burrow.


	2. Chapter 2

_'Ama me fideliter! Fidem meam noto: De corde totaliter Et ex mente tota, Sum presentialiter Absens in remota.'  
_

**Carmina Burana, "Omnia Sol Temperat"**

The Order meeting room had the atmosphere of a trial, eyes harrowing into Ginny as she kept her own lowered, awaiting her verdict. She quickly scanned the table, watching as others instinctively lowered their eyes – she felt like an outcast. The Order automatically arranged a meeting after every frequent death eater attack. This one, however, had something unusual on the agenda. Till everyone arrived they had not told her anything, yet had merely whispered as she waited in silence, treating her like a fragile doll, consciously avoiding her gaze." You must speak to Lupin." That was all they had said, and she complied.

At long last the silence was broken, and the meeting began.

Fitting with the air of the meeting, there were no jests, no questions to Molly about what was for dinner, no lively conversation – instead, following a summary upon the breadth of the attack and its implications, Lupin went straight to the point, gently requesting Ginny to tell them what had happened. With a subdued voice, Ginny explained what had occurred. "I don't understand myself" she whispered, "I just knew the things about him that I wanted to know, and I couldn't control myself, I couldn't refuse to speak what I learned…"

Ginny could not help feeling weak for her strong display of emotion. She felt as though she really needed Harry to be besides her, but he had avoided her ever since they returned from Diagon Alley. He was not at the meeting, having been on icy terms with the Order ever since they had allowed Severus Snape back into their ranks. She did not tell the Order about how Draco saved her life or of the kiss, merely that they had met as she tried to escape.

Tonks, her mouth wide open, could not speak. She knew she did not have to, either. There was something mysterious about Ginny Weasley, but one thing was certain: for Ginny's sake, Voldemort must never know about the power she possessed.

She shuddered, imagining what Voldemort would do to get an Alucinor in his grip...

"Thank you, Ginny", Lupin had said quietly, dismissing her. "We will call you back soon."

Slowly, Ginny left the room, hearing many muffled voices as she closed the door behind her.

An hour later the witch returned, and she immediately demanded to know. Ginny hated being in the dark. After a few seconds of tentative silence, Lupin was the first to speak. "Ginny," he said in a calm voice, "you possess a very rare gift, called Alucinor, which enables you to extricate feelings and knowledge from those whose eyes meet yours. My theory is that you received the gift from Tom Riddle, as this gift has only appeared, till now, to descendents of Salazar Slytherin. Tom must have inadvertently transferred the gift to you while he possessed you. Although he was a halfblood and could not use this gift, you are a pureblood, and hence you can."

"Then why ," Ginny questioned skeptically, "have I never discovered it until now?"

Lupin appeared pensive for a moment, as though pondering how to phrase a certain truth, and then at last resumed his speech.

"Such rare gifts only appear when the person possessing the gift loses one of the last remnants of innocence, and then is gradually developed, the inner distraction generally resulting in extreme emotional states till the ability fully appears."

He spoke ambiguously, yet allowing Ginny to privately recall losing her virginity to Harry, due to which they decided to resume their relationship.

A moment of silence ensued, during which Ginny began to realize the situation. Only then did she grasp the true weight of the matter, and her voice rose as she shouted, frightened, at Lupin. "Ability? This is no ability – this is a curse!" Ginny's grip around a glass of water tightened so that it broke in her hand. Water and blood spilled over the table edge, the drips mingling with her shouts. "How can I live with it? I can't avoid another's gaze for the rest of my life!"

Lupin's face appeared resolute and grim as he hesitantly resumed his speech. "The Order is still discussing that matter; you will be informed as soon as we have a concrete answer."

She would be left in the dark – again. An upset witch immediately left the meeting room and ran to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Tonks rose to comfort her, yet Molly placed a hand on her shoulder before she approached the redhead, whispering to the young auror that it was best to leave her daughter alone for now.

Ginny sighed, ignoring her wounded hand. Sometimes she felt as though everything happened to her. She longed to have her mother nearby, holding her and soothing her softly, and yet deeper still she wanted to struggle silently and in solitude, just to prove to herself that she could. During her first year, when Harry had saved her, she had felt useless, that she was just a damsel in distress. But this time, Ginny knew, she would take things into her own hands. She would no longer be a victim – she refused let her new curse interfere with her life.

Immediately, Ginny fell into a deep slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

_'And sweetest in the gale is heard;  
And sore must be the storm  
That could abash the little bird  
That kept so many warm'._

**Emily Dickinson**

Sunlight filtered through the moth-bitten curtains of Ginny's bedroom, awakening her from her slumber as she lay upon soft, faded sheets. Ginny slowly stirred, her pale stomach exposed by her childhood pajamas as she stretched her arms, basking for a moment in the warmth of the sunlight and the room that had been hers for as long as she could remember. Yet a heavy feeling inside of her was pulling her down and would not relent. Yawning as she stood up, she was lost for a moment in confusion till she recalled the reason for her worry. Her face lost its just-woke-up relaxed demeanor and immediately fell into a frown, and Ginny got out of bed.

With effort, Ginny removed a white summer dress from her luggage, which was packed to the rim with her belongings. It reminded her that just a single day of leisure remained till she had to leave for Hogwarts. It would be her first time alone upon the train unaccompanied by a fellow red haired Weasley, she realized, nor would the plateau be as crowded as usual years. Yet another change for the worse in something that had once been so stable.

As she slowly tied the string to a tight knot in the back of her dress, Ginny's eyes roamed to the window, the bright light peering through the curtains. It took her a while to tie the knot, she noticed, as her thoughts returned to the previous day. The fact that a day could still be beautiful, despite everything, seemed like a mockery to her. Ginny felt the sunshine contrasting inside of her, and felt as though no one could ever understand. Yet that thought was interrupted as the sound of hissing came to her through a memory, and Ginny realized that it was Harry who could understand her best. He as well was cursed by a man whom had hurt them the most, a curse linked to dark magic, both uncontrollable and unwanted. It was the darkness in their past which connected them, Ginny knew. It was the connection upon which their unique friendship stood and, more precariously, their relationship.

Looking forward to meeting with Harry, Ginny went down the creaking stairs to the kitchen. The warm smell of pancakes was in the air, making her stomach growl. Yet it was a kitchen void of Ginny Harry, Ron and Hermione into which Ginny entered. There were only several Order members and her mother around the table, a look of pity in her eyes.

"Where's Harry?" she asked as she poured herself a cup of orange juice from the table. Tonks uncomfortable shifted, and no one replied. "Where's Harry?" she asked again, supposing that they hadn't heard her, though a slight suspicion started growing in her chest. Had he? She never doubted that he would, but when she needed him the most? The silence that ensued made her heart race and her throat tighten, and she asked yet again, her voice pained and the answer already known inside, "Where is he?" Molly opened her mouth yet could not speak, and that was the final blow for Ginny. She ran from the kitchen, heading through the forest towards the small lake by the Burrow, and willing herself not to look back.

The surrounding forest was betrayed by a few leaves already turning hellacious colors of red and brown, hinting upon the upcoming sacrifice for the nearing winter. And yet the summer heat was still present, fighting fiercely and making it known that it would not capitulate its gaze for weeks to come.

Ginny finally arrived at her giant willow tree overlooking the lake, the place where she would always run to when she was upset. The body of water was diamantine beneath the morning sky, the sunshine melting into Ginny's skin and giving her the warmth she longed for. And yet, without warning, tears began to fall on Ginny's cheeks, and falling to the ground she expressed the pain she had been holding inside of her all summer. She was scared, terrified, of Voldemort's return, and her nightmares of the chamber had been haunting her again ever since, the first time since her third year. She was frightened from all the death eater attacks, and the auror deaths – fear for her family felt like a bird fluttering, trapped, inside a building. She had grieved at Dumbledore's death as well, though had to bottle it inside for Harry - she had been so happy with him during the school year despite the darkness that surrounded it... a flush of anger flooded Ginny as she returned to the present. Removing her black cloak, she deftly climbed up the ancient willow tree, about to do what she came here for. Ginny stared for a moment at the dark blue lake beneath her, and then jumped into it.

The water was so cold that she cried out at first, yet it soon turned to a reviving, refreshing coolness. Defying gravity as she dove beneath the depths of the lake, Ginny immediately felt better. Here alone she could escape from the world, and it never failed, no matter what, to clear her mind.

Like dust cleaned away from a tome, revealing the page beneath it, the cold water seemed to clean her of troubling emotions. All her anger, fear and confusion seemed to melt away, leaving her with nothing but her diamantine thoughts. Though not much more comforting, they were rational, and that was what Ginny craved – order, reason… an escape from confusion. Her mind drifted to Harry, and even the cold could not numb the pain of his departure. Yet she could now see that it was all for the best that their relationship came to an end. She knew that he couldn't be with her at the moment; their decision to have a relationship despite everything was foolish, made in the spur of the moment. Ginny did not understand what took her so long to realize that she shouldn't be in a relationship that gave her nothing but lament. Yet she still hurt, and she still cared for him.

After a while, noticing that even a swim could not make her future brighter yet only clear the past, Ginny noticed that the sky was right above her – it was already noon, time to head back. She exited the lake, her white dress clinging to her soaking body. Drops of water fell from her dark auburn hair, and just as she turned to head to the Burrow a sudden chill came over her. She would have supposed that it had just been a cool breeze, had it not been for a pale hand that grasped her shoulder, turning her around. Ginny jumped in surprise as she found herself face to face, or more like chest to face, with Draco Malfoy. Raising her neck to peer at the tall Slytherin, she was simply speechless, and solely Malfoy cleared the silence as he lowered his head, avoiding her eyes and saying in a low voice: "I would be very careful if I were you, Weaselette…" Ginny gave a shudder, and was spared from having to reply when Draco quickly apparated, as gone as fast as he had arrived.

Ginny stared after him into thin air, pondering the threat. Could he know about Alucinor? It was possible, yet she doubted it. And why should he threaten her? Occupied, Ginny had not put much thought to what happened between them, figuring that Draco had only seized the opportunity to kiss a girl, and had saved her solely due to his desire to escape evil. Yet why had he arrived? Perhaps he had been sent here, she thought. Putting the thought at the back of her mind, the young woman walked towards the Burrow, resolutely determined to put her troubling thoughts away. There were some things which she simply refused to acknowledge. Hope in Draco was one of them.


	4. Chapter 4

_"When elephants fight it is the grass that suffers."_

**African Proverb**

A few hours later, as the sun turned from a luminous fire into a flame smoldering in the horizon, Ginny was summoned to see Snape in the Order meeting room. She did not loathe the former potions teacher as did her closest brother, yet she could not help yet feel trepidation at the thought of meeting Dumbledore's killer for the first time since the attack. Yet of his courage, strength and loyalty she doubted not, nor of his knowledge, and with this thought did she comfort herself as she closed the door behind her.

Taking a seat across the black haired professor, Ginny could barely keep herself from flinching in surprise as she glanced upon his face, avoiding his eyes – he seemed to have aged years in solely a few weeks. He appeared weary, and troubled. She could not even bring herself to imagine what it must have taken to do as Dumbledore requested, and she doubted whether she would have been able to. Snape appeared to sense her feelings, and hence abruptly began to speak, getting straight to the point. "You are a clever witch, Miss Weasley," Snape said in a cold, clear voice. "Surely you understand what Voldemort would wish to attain an Alucinor for."

Ginny further lowered her eyes as she replied. "Actually sir," she began, "there is something that I do not understand." She sighed before she resumed her speech, presuming that her next question was a sure sign of ignorance. "What is the difference between Occlumency and Alucinor?"

She raised her eyes, expecting to see a smile of mockery upon his face. Yet the smile carved upon his features was full of bitterness and grim, and in the same tone he answered. "Occlumency can be barred bilaterally, yet Alucinor has no barrier but one. Even the best Occlumens can not stop Alucinor once he makes eye contact with one who possesses the ability. When one masters it, any information can thus be attained at will, even the feelings of the holder towards the knowledge." A moment of silence passed between them, and then Ginny whispered in a hushed tone "I can understand how that would affect your position, sir." A cynic smile was exchanged between the two. Severus had always been fond of the Weasley daughter, and not just because of the prophecy about her. At first he had harbored doubts as to whether she would be the one mentioned, yet Alucinor proved the first two lines flawlessly.

_'Seven generations shall pass and the seventh born_

_shall reflect the darkness and mirror the soul'_

The other two lines were indecipherable, and too dark to consider the possible interpretation. Snape had told none of the prophecy that solely he had heard Trelawney utter. Yet recent revelations made the second line clear, and all he could do was watch the powerful young witch struggle with her destiny - along with one other thing, which the bright redhead immediately picked up. "What do you mean by no barrier but one, sir?" she asked, as she attempted to conceal her hope, yet failed to hide her trembling hands from his sight.

Snape did not utter a reply. Instead, he reached into his black cloak, noticing Ginny jump at the threatening motion. He withdrew a small box made of black marble, handing it to the young witch.

Without waiting for her question, he replied. "It is known by very few that a certain rare stone can be bewitched to shield and prevent all forms of Occlumency. A certain… friend of mine was… kind enough to willingly hand one over to me…"

Ginny understood his tone, yet knew better than to ask. A sudden feeling of relief overcame her, and she thanked Severus greatly, unable to cease a tear from rolling down her cheek as she was overcome by her emotion. She had been certain that she was doomed to a life of caution and fear, yet Snape had saved her from that. She was simply speechless. Snape spoke instead as she tried to keep calm.

"I have attached the stone, Consisto, to a chain. All those who need to know are aware of it; there is no need to further share this information… Merlin forbid the Golden Trio finds out…"

"I understand sir," Ginny said.

"I have something to attend to. With luck, I shall return next week. I trust you to take care of yourself and keep discretion." Ginny nodded. "Be strong," he cautioned mysteriously, and then apparated from her sight.

His last two words to her rang within her mind as Ginny arrived at King's Cross, solely her mother at her side. The station was surprisingly full of men and women in odd clothing with their luggage-laden children at their sides, all obviously Hogwarts students. Ginny smoothed down her emerald summer dress, suddenly feeling a strange premonition that she was being watched by malevolent eyes. She dismissed it as stress, worry of starting a new year without a Weasley at her side. She glanced across the crowd again, and then time seemed to stop. Harry, with his black hair and green eyes, was running towards her, Harry was shouting something at her… a look of horror then crossed his features, and before he could reach her several friendly looking wizards in a corner immediately lavished black cloaks, and a sudden blast shook the building.

There was blood everywhere... screams... a shout... moans of pain... It was almost surreal. This can't be happening... Ginny thought frantically. This cannot be happening! Recalling Diagon Alley, Ginny looked up and saw the very thing which she dreaded: the colossal skull of smoke, hovering above the death and destruction. It was made of emerald stars with a serpentine tongue coming out of its mouth, and Ginny knew exactly what it meant.

Her neck was aching, her head pounding... Ginny looked down and immediately felt a wave of sickness overcome her. There were body organs all over the ground, and in the distance she could see Harry dueling with two Death Eaters. Near them was a small body lying face down in a pool of blood. It all became too much for Ginny, and she felt herself gradually losing consciousness.

As she fell, a man under an invisibility cloak grabbed her, apparating into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

_'You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.'_

**Mahatma Gandhi**

Ginny awoke with a start, her hands bound behind her, slumped upon a cold, grey floor. Emerging out of her fright, she quickly looked around her before reality really sunk in. Crawling into an upright position, she could see a barred window above her, allowing eerie moonlight to seep in, and upon tearing her eyes from the window to see what it was illuminating Ginny snapped out of her shock.

Shackles were connected to the hard, grey stone wall, and the large door in front of her was covered in marks reminiscent of nail scratches, like hands clawing at the only way of escape...

Remembering the last thing she could, the attack at King's Cross, Ginny put two and two together. With a shudder at the horrifying thought, she realized that she had been kidnapped by Death Eaters.

A rush of thoughts immediately flew into her mind, most prominent of which being the agony that lay ahead and staying true to the Order. She had no need to even contemplate the latter, she knew deep inside that amidst the storm of feelings inside of her, that one was etched in her soul. But Ginny knew that it was not for information, or even for being a Weasley, that she was kidnapped. They must have known that she was an Alucinor. But how? An image of Draco rose into her mind, and a sudden feeling of confusion came over her. Had he given the information willingly?

With a torrent of guilt, Ginny wondered whether the bloody attacks were solely for capturing her, and whether others were taken as well. Remembering seeing Ron unconscious she began to worry, distracting herself from her situation, and Ginny fought against the urge to block herself from feeling.

A sudden sound of brisk footsteps pulled her out of her thoughts and back to grim reality.

Instinctively Ginny scanned the chamber, futilely searching for a place to hide, to run away... yet the only link that she could find to the outside world was the door, undoubtedly locked, and the hypnotizing window.

Upon fixing her gaze at the orifice of the walls surrounding her, Ginny felt a strange pull towards yet, unexplainable... tired, confused and too inexperienced to fight it, carefully raising herself despite her bound hands Ginny approached the window and mechanically raised her hands upon the icy bars. Immediately, she was quickly shot out of the trance as she was thrown back with a shout, and, terrified, she stared at her palms.

Upon each of her small hands was etched a snake, faced towards the other, and before she could even begin to panic the door opened from behind her.

Ginny turned herself around on the floor and felt the blood drain from her face.

A tall, cloaked wizard appeared before her, not even resembling his youth that had charmed her just several years ago.

"I see you have arrived, Ginevra," said Voldemort in a cold, clear voice.

Ginny jumped at the sound of 'Ginevra' - only Tom would call her such in that same toying, dark voice. Slowly, she backed away from him, gazing at him as a cornered rabbit would gaze at a fox.

A laugh escaped from Voldemort's lips, so different from Tom's... and yet so similar that it struck her to the bone.

Petrified, she simply sat upon the cold floor, looking up at him and kneeling with her head bowed, relinquishing herself to her fate and waiting to see what would next occur. She knew Tom - there was no use in fighting.

As she felt the cold ground beneath her, a cynical laugh almost escaped her lips as she remembered when she had a thirst for adventures such as Harry's, magnificent, frightening tales she would beg him to tell her. Yet know, when the dream was real, Ginny knew that she would give her left lung to be able to be home again... To lie once more on the soft, tattered sofa in the living room, basking in the fireplace's warmth and drinking hot chocolate as delicious smells of her mum's mouth-watering Treacle Pudding traveled from the kitchen and into her heart.

The Burrow seemed so far away, as though a memory from a distant past life.

Once again, Ginny was torn away from her thoughts, a sanctuary without refuge, and returned to reality.

She gave a small jump - Death Eaters had suddenly appeared in the room and made a circle around her.

Ginny looked around and saw a smug-looking Macnair, Avery, a smiling Lucius and Draco, Ginny saw with a flood of realization and anger, behind him, though not noticing the look of ill-disguised despair upon his face, with Nott, Crabbe, Goyle and the Lestranges beside them.

They were all hooded and wearing black cloaks, yet Ginny knew who they were from last year, in the Ministry... indeed, the Death Eaters had once again escaped from Azakaban.

Ginny began to shiver.

Meeting the black gaze of Bellatrix, the memory of Sirius arose and, from some unknown fire within, she began to struggle with her binds, determined to show them that she would not go down easily.

In a sardonically merciful manner, Voldemort spared Ginny the struggle and conjured a small mahogany chair, smirking as Ginny suddenly found herself with her ankles bound by rope to the legs and her hands behind the back of it. Yet she was otherwise ignored by Voldemort and his followers. Ginny fiercely continued her battle against the binds yet to no avail, her hands aching from the rubbing of the ropes.

It was only when she had ceased her struggle, her wrists and ankles bleeding, that the silence amongst the Death Eaters ceased, Voldemort raising his hand and appearing deep in thought. Ginny shivered as she saw the snake red eyes, the face devoid of color, only evil lending it a glow.

Ginny wondered where Snape was, and why he hadn't warned them of Voldemort's plans, and then she remembered their meeting in the dungeons... "I have a task to do; I'll only be back by next week."

Glad at the distraction from the frightening situation which, despite herself, she felt as though she was peering upon from a fragmentary dream, all sense of time forgotten, she wondered whether the task was connected to her present situation. She placed those thoughts at the back of her mind as she struggled to get out from the comforting detachment her mind had tried to hand her as a gift, she needed all her senses with her. Her practical ignorance by the wizards and witches around her and the harrowing silence that immersed them only heightened her fear, and Ginny wondered what the bloody hell was going on, and whether she wanted to know. She could barely feel, could barely think... it seemed to all be surrounded by a veil, only a few minutes before she had awoken in her strange surroundings, and it had not sunk in yet.

At once, the Death Eaters began to slowly, one by one, kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes, muttering words that Ginny couldn't hear. Whatever was planned had apparently already begun. Once they had all finished, Ginny watched with morbid fascination as Voldemort removed a vial from his robes - it was oddly empty. Ginny felt a sudden rush to know what was going on as she slowly returned to the present, frustrated with being helpless and bound upon the imprisoning mahogany chair, and fearing the unknown situation.

A voice, hers yet seeming to be from far away, shouted, "What do you want from me?"

Voldemort, appearing annoyed as though interrupted, turned towards her.

"You, Ginevra," he said concisely as his red eyes twinkled diabolically, and then, returning the empty vial to his pocket, took out his wand instead. Ginny's eyes widened in fear.

"You are surely aware that we all know about your little gift, and that stone around your neck, I surmise?" he said in an amused, taunting voice. Her shock that they certainly knew about her power heightened her fear, and all Ginny could do was nod. "Very well," Voldemort continued, languidly twirling his wand between his long, arachnid fingers, "and you will found out about our plans soon enough." A high laugh rose into the air, followed by that of his followers. "However, surely you do not believe that we will pass over the chance to learn more about Dumbledore's plans, simply because you are..." Voldemort paused, letting his words sink in, "an old friend?" Smirking at her pale face, Voldemort approached her, leaning down to whisper into her ear, his silk words laced with insinuation that sent chills down her spine. "However, Ginevra, if you simply comply, we will be more considerate..." He traced an icy, arachnid finger down her cheek, making her shudder. "Such a pretty face," he said softly, as though to himself, "it's a shame to have to harm it." He peered over her bound body, his eyes resting upon the stone that hung around her neck, and smiled like it was common knowledge that Ginny could keep no secrets from him, and as though he was certain that she would capitulate.

Ginny scowled, looking away from him in disgust. "Never!" she spat. With a fierce look of anger Voldemort roughly slapped her across the face, and after looking at her with confusion and disgust, he left the room with his followers, the door slamming strongly behind him.

Relieved that they had left yet frustrated at still being bound to the chair, Ginny had almost sighed a sigh of relief till she heard a tapping of feet against the floor, and shocked she looked upon Lucius.

Under the moonlight, his grey eyes that met her own were feral; the vulturous gaze solely tamed by the blonde hair and sharp, aristocratic features that demanded authority. Yet the look that met Ginny's eyes as Lucius pulled out his wand was none other than lupine.

He circled slowly around her, like a vulture around a dying animal, every now and then running his fingers through her hair as he spoke and enjoyed the effect he knew he had upon his prey.

At last, after what seemed like hours, Lucius ceased taunting her and describing ways in which he had made others talk in the past, and the moment which Ginny knew was inevitable was closer than ever.

"How fortunate it is that my son disclosed such a fascinating piece of information to me," he said with a nonchalant air, "for with it, Miss Weasley, I can finally attain that which I have longed for so long…"

Lucius ran his fingers through Ginny's hair and then fiercely pulled it back, and with her neck exposed so vulnerably he whispered to her, "revenge." Ginny hissed in pain, yet refused to make a sound. Releasing her, Lucius resumed lazily strolling around her as Ginny watched his every step in fear and determination, though flinching every time Lucius snapped his wand against his palm.

Her heart was beating rapidly inside her chest; she refused to hope that he could not hear it.

"I am giving you one more chance to stop things before they occur, Miss Weasley," Lucius said threateningly, and all Ginny could bring herself to do was stare defiantly back at him, her teeth chattering as she forced herself to focus on nothing but the Order.

"That is not a problem, Miss Weasley- your family and mine have many old scores to settle, and what better way than this?" Lucius stopped in front of Ginny and pointed his wand sharply at her, raising his voice and shouting as she flinched: "Crucio!"

The word that Ginny had been awaiting finally arrived, and a bright light emerged from Lucius's wand, hitting her straight in the chest and making her writhe beneath her binds. She was being stabbed by a thousand knives, her body was burning from within… drowning under agony she couldn't even realize that she was screaming insanely, writhing from side to side, trying to make it just end… At last it did. It was only twenty seconds, yet it felt like an eternity.

"That wasn't very fun, was it?" asked Lucius pleasurably as Ginny lay panting and gasping in the chair, her hands bleeding from the abrasions caused as she jerked against the ropes.

Lucius sat down beside her, wiping away a tear. "You don't want it to happen again, do you?" He asked softly, and Ginny, still trying to regain her breath, merely shook her head. "We can make it end, just tell me the names of all who fight against Voldemort." His voice was sycophantically caring, and she closed her eyes as a wave of nausea passed over her. Ginny shook her head again, though more fervently this time. "Now now," Lucius said in an indignant tone, as though scolding a child, "Don't lie! We already know that you know where it is, and I don't want to hurt you. Come on now, be a good girl."

Panting, Ginny merely bit her lip, and said: "We all fight against him."

Lucius raised his wand again, and Ginny sighed.

She was in for a long night.

Two hours had trickled away through the hourglass of time, each grain of sand holding naught but suffering for Ginevra Weasley, yet still she would not speak.

Lucius, quickly bored of the Cruciatus curse, had transformed his wand into a whip, releasing Ginevra from the chair and tossing her unto the floor. Yet Ginny only grew bolder as she saw her torturer's frustration.

"Bet you wish you were dead, Weasley!" he shouted at her, "But you won't be lucky enough to die. You will suffer agony until you bloody well", he paused to raise the whip, "speak!" the whip cracked upon her and Ginny could not resist a cry of pain. "And even after you finally break Voldemort will use you, for the ceremony and your abilities, forever trapped, never free… you may as well just stop fighting now – there is no escape."

The whip cracked upon her yet again, releasing a torrent of pain and Ginny whimpered, but she did not scream. Inside, she was writhing in agony. If only it would stop… They were afraid that veritaserum would interfere with her Alucinor abilities, so Lucius had said in rage, but was this any better?

"I'll kill myself!" she suddenly exclaimed with intense emotion, her breath quick and shallow, her head spinning, and no longer afraid to speak knowing that it would make no difference. "I'll bloody kill myself if I have to, right before the ceremony! I'll bite the skin off my wrists, and there won't be anything you can do about it."

For a moment, Lucius looked worried and Ginny entertained the faintest hope that her threat had hit its mark. However, the worry left his face and his lips curled to form a grin: a sadistic, evil grin.

"There are ways to keep you alive," he said. "And we could always harm your dear beloved, I'm sure your brothers would be fun to torture, and there are so many of them."

"You leave them out of this!" she shouted. "They didn't do anything wrong! They aren't responsible for..."she paused guiltily, "for who I am."

But Lucius did give her a verbal answer. In reply, he simply raised the whip and lowered it with all his strength onto Ginny's back. She could not withhold the cry that escaped her lips as warm crimson blood trickled down her back, her dress ripped where the whip had hit it. "That's more like it." said Lucius. "Much, much better."

The whip was raised once more, this time falling onto her bare shoulder. Her deep, crimson blood trickled onto her emerald dress, more running down her cheek as she bit her lip to keep from screaming. Once more the whip cracked, and Ginny could feel herself finally ebbing away into blissful unconsciousness. Her head was spinning… Let it all end, she thought desperately. Please, please, please.

Her eyes rolled back into her socket, and she went limp as all turned black.

"Get up, filth." Lucius sneered, kicking her brutally in the chest. Ginny heard the crack of a broken rib.

"Where is the Order located?" he asked shortly. "Who is in charge of it?"

Ginny gasped for breath at this short respite, quickly readjusting her position to somehow ease the pain. She looked up at Lucius, tall and imposing above her, and then she spat upon his polished, leather shoes, closing her eyes as the whip slashed into her yet again.


	6. Chapter 6

As Ginny kept silent for them, the Order worked late into the night as they attempted to gather information on the young woman whom they all loved. Harry returned to the Burrow, laced with guilt. He was certain that it was because of him that she was captured. He had tried to warn her when he got the intelligence report, yet he had arrived too late. Classes at Hogwarts were temporarily suspended and many students returned home or to white beds at St. Mungo's, all still in shock from the deaths of Hannah Abbott and Eleanor Ferth.

Oblivious to the world outside, Ginny lay huddled on a hard bed in a different chamber she had been taken to, this one more suitable for habitation. Half-conscious most of the time, the only thing she remembered from the past few hours was terrible pain and everything going black, only to awake to see Voldemort, or thus the figure appeared under half-shut lids and blurry vision. She had blissfully lost conscious again, only to awake on a bed that, though plain, was heavenly compared to a stone floor. Slightly raising her head and relieved to see her hands unbound, Ginny could see another door on a wall besides the large, heavy one which obviously led to the hallway. The window in this room, she could tell, was the same as before – yet it was obviously more of a prison than a torture chamber.

Yet before her curiosity could get the best of her, Ginny's head began to spin again and she painfully resumed lying face down, her back too wounded to place pressure against. Yet again, she vanished into the realm of unconsciousness.

She awoke several hours later, strong enough this time to get up. Too tired to think much, she simply approached the door, checking to see whether the hopes that she had entertained were commensurate with reality. Opening the door, she could see that they were. A plain grey ceramic bath was at one side of her, at her other a lavatory, sink, and full length mirror. It was all dreary, yet Ginny was delighted. Filling the bath with water – cold – Ginny removed her torn emerald dress, peering at her blood-caked, wounded back. What have they done to me? She thought in horror, wincing in pain. The effects of the Cruciatus curse lingered, she could tell. But Ginevra stopped herself before she could assess the situation and think about the future – she was in desperate need of a bath.

The witch flinched as she stepped into the freezing water, yet as the cold passed over her whole body the numbness was welcome. Gently cleansing the wounds she could reach by hand, Ginny stepped at last out of the now red-colored water, shivering and blue, though feeling much more refreshed than before. Putting on her ripped, blood-covered dress, Ginny hobbled over to her bed, gently brushing and braiding her hair with her trembling fingers. It was only when she had finished taking care of herself that she let herself break down and sob, scared, in pain, and alone.

What was going to happen to her? Where was the Order? Those were only two of the many questions haunting her mind and not giving her rest. Lucius mentioned something about a ceremony, she recalled… she shuddered as she contemplated just what it could include, and placed her head in her hands as she remembered yet another thing that he had told her: "… Voldemort will use you, for the ceremony and your abilities, forever trapped, never free…" Did nothing await her but torture and imprisonment?

Taking deep breaths to calm down, Ginny reminded herself that the Order would never abandon her, and that all she had to do was survive until they came. With that hopeful thought in mind, she heard her stomach churn in hunger, and it was only then that she noticed a tray of moldy bread, water and gruel besides the main door. Though tentative at first, she took a few first bites, and once satisfied that it was not immediately fatal she ravenously ate it all.

Her hunger and thirst sated, the exhausted red haired witch was about to return to the bed, when the mahogany door burst open. Lucius, a look of pain and anger upon his face, entered the room with Macnair behind him.

"I see you're awake, Miss Weasley," Lucius spat.

Shaking, Ginny was despaired. Surely not again! She thought. And so soon? Preparing herself for the worst and knowing what answer to expect, Ginny resumed her defiant self and, in a trembling voice, asked: "What do you want?" Lucius's reply was surprising, brusque and mysteriously amused.

"It's time".

Before she could even contemplate its meaning, Ginny's arms were seized from behind her by McNair and Lucius, the tall man's hand making sure to strongly touch her wounded back as he fiercely held her arm, making Ginevra cry out in pain.

Struggling despite the pain, she was dragged through a dark, torch-filled corridor, till they reached a damp, steep staircase. Ginny, too weak and pained to continue fighting, hobbled between the two death eaters as they slowly descended it for what seemed like an eternity, going lower and lower into the darkness, their only source of light being ominous torches that refused to expel warmth.

At long last, they reached a small chamber, lit only by a fire in its center above which bubbled an immense cauldron. The fire illuminated a half-circle of death eaters around it, at their center Voldemort. Ginny, eyes wide open in fear, glanced around the room instinctively for an exit, though finding naught else but grotesque paintings upon the walls. Ginny felt her breath quicken as she struggled to remain calm – was this the ceremony that Lucius had referred to? Taking a deep breath, she walked with Lucius and McNair towards the half-circle, where she was thrown unceremoniously to their other side, facing the cauldron and the Death Eaters with the wall right behind her, upon it a painting of a screaming man with a snake coiled around his body.

Ginny was too petrified to do anything but kneel on the floor, the only thing between herself and Voldemort being the cauldron and Wormtail at the side of it, in his hand a wooden spoon with which he slowly stirred the maroon potion.

The potion gave off a slight shimmer, and was apparently cold, despite the fire beneath it, for ice was slowly forming along the edges of the cauldron.

Ginny shivered.

Voldemort removed his eyes from the simmering cauldron, smiling a diabolical smile at Ginevra. "Let us begin." He simply said.

Ginny, a premonition of horror overtaking her, stumbled to her feet and slowly walked backwards, trying to get as far away from Voldemort as possible.

Yet as Ginny felt her head connect with the cold wall, she knew that it was hopeless.

She was trapped.


	7. Chapter 7

_'It is strange that the vanity which accompanies beauty - excusable, perhaps, when there is such great beauty, or at any rate understandable -should persist after the beauty was gone.'_

**Aristotle **

Voldemort appeared to wish to waste little time, and immediately turned towards Draco and Avery. "Bind her!" he commanded. As Avery approached her with noticeable delight, Draco appearing somehow forlorn, both immediately conjured ropes with their wand, binding the hands of a witch too pained and confused to struggle more than futilely trying to remove her hands from their hold.

Yet Ginny was surprised as, although Avery was expectedly brutal, Draco was gentle. She was completely shocked, however, when Draco leaned near to whisper something into her ear. It was so unexpected and surreptitious that she later wondered if it was merely her pure imagination.

"I tried to warn you, Ginny", he whispered hurriedly, "Now I have little else to do. You are weak and in pain, I can see that – for your own sake", his whisper turned into a hush plea, "please try not to fight – it is futile, and it will only hurt you more".

Ginny could not believe what she was hearing. Draco Malfoy, in a Death Eater's robes, warning, advising… caring… she grew up amidst headstrong Gryffindors, values based upon honor and defiance, and yet she knew that he was right. She answered her compliance with a clandestine nod. Somehow, his warm presence at her side comforted her, and she felt oddly reassured that he was besides her, despite having Avery at her other side as well.

Voldemort began walking towards Ginny, his black cloak billowing behind him, and Ginny's panic returned to her. Frantically she looked around the room, hoping without reason that the Order would arrive at any second… her eyes met those of Draco, and they exchanged a glance of fear, empathy, and something which they had hidden inside for years, as it was simply impossible… indeed, a Malfoy and a Weasley? They must take such silly notions out of their minds. Her frantic thoughts were interrupted as she found herself face to face with Voldemort, Draco's grip tightening against her arm as he saw him so close.

Voldemort's dark voice rose throughout the dank chamber. "I had you in mind as I prepared for this night, Ginevra", he said, "and we both have been waiting too long." Without further ado, he summoned an object from behind the cauldron, and upon seeing what it was, Ginny nearly fainted with shock.

In Voldemort's pale, spider-like hand was none other than his old diary; leather-bound and with a hole in its center.

Ginny was stunned.

She had always surmised that the diary had been destroyed by Dumbledore, for they did not let her see it when she had deliriously requested to; and yet here it was, as real as herself, and completely intact but for a hole in its middle.

It was the very object that had caused her pain and torture in her first year at Hogwarts. The very thing that tormented her heart, possessed her mind, and nearly killed her body. Seeing the diary again forced Ginny to recall a flood of memories that she had worked so hard to forget; terrible memories, each like a knife plunging deep into her heart. She recalled blood on her robes, the blank moments, Mrs. Norris and the petrified students, the guilt, the fear, the despair… and Tom… Tom whispering to her in the darkness and tainting her forever.

"Surprised, Ginevra?" Voldemort asked, his tone filled with amusement and anticipation. "But worry not – bigger surprises await you tonight". The unnerving sound of Death Eater laughter ringed in her ears. Being so close to Draco, Ginny could sense that his laughter was sycophantic.

To Ginny's immense relief, Voldemort turned suddenly away from her. "Wormtail, is it ready?" he questioned impatiently, and Wormtail, no longer stirring the cauldron, stuttered back a positive reply. Ginny gingerly turned her head, attempting to get a better view of the mysterious cauldron without overly agitating her aching body. Voldemort left her side, and confusion and fear suddenly came over the witch… whatever was supposed to happen was clearly about to occur.

Wormtail began to move towards her, an ancient dagger in his hand. Immediately Ginny began to struggle, and she could sense that even Draco's hands tightened around her in fear as Wormtail came near her, raising the dagger. His ratty face was clearly visible at such a close distance, and Ginny averted her eyes. Please… she begged to no one in particular… I can't take any more of this torture…

Avery lifted up Ginny's right arm, as her hand clenched into a fist, and she felt the cold metal of the dagger slice into the skin of her wrist. She and Draco winced in pain, yet neither made a sound. Wormtail motioned towards the cauldron and she was dragged there by the two men at her side. She ceased her struggles as Draco hushed softly into her ear, allowing her arm to rise above the cauldron and the blood to drip into the steaming liquid. The shade of the potion immediately changed from frosty blue to blood red, and a metallic scent filled the chamber. Voldemort cackled in pleasure, the sound cutting through Ginny's hopes of escape like the dagger that had sliced through her skin.

She watched as the diary was dropped into the bubbling liquid, causing the steam to rise into the air and the dark mark to appear within it. Wormtail took the macabre symbol as his queue and poured some of the blood-red liquid into a silver goblet, handing it to Voldemort. The Dark Lord smiled, raising the goblet towards the petrified witch before him as though making a toast. Not wishing to wait any longer, his gaze continued to stay fixated her as he held the goblet to his lips, and quickly downed the elixir.

Voldemort began the transformation as soon as the last drop of the potion was consumed. He cried out in agony, as his features started to melt and change. With a mixture of curiosity and disgust, Ginny watched as Voldemort seemed to go backwards in time, his features changing into ones terrifyingly familiar to her. His eyes turned from a reptile red into an icy grey, his face losing the emaciated appearance and becoming the same handsome face that Ginny thought that she had seen upon Harry once when he had startled her in the dark. His body became taut and firm and dark straight hair emerged from his scalp. Before long, Ginny was no longer looking at the monstrous Voldemort, yet Tom Riddle – the sixteen year old Adonis with cold, victorious eyes.

At long last, the transformation was complete. Tom Riddle was on the floor, gasping for breath as though he had suddenly emerged from the depths. Yet he quickly leapt to his feet, nimble and adept, enjoying the look of pleasure and surprise upon his follower's faces.

He smugly ran his fingers through his hair, enjoying its silky texture. It had been so long since he had felt remotely human, for eternity it seemed that he had abhorred mirrors, hated the body in which he was contained. Each time he had summoned and bargained with the denizens of Hell to increase his own power, each time that he torn his soul into pieces, he had lost a bit of his humanity. Yet the fool Dumbledore had been certain that the diary was merely a horcrux… little did he know that with his magnificent intelligence, he, Lord Voldemort, had another plan up his sleeve. Surely the dead former headmaster of his did not expect him to be content in such a shriveled body as before? The Dark Lord had made sure that there would be a way for him to return to his former glory, and that way was the Adulescentia Glacialis potion which he himself had concocted in secret, not allowing the potions master to know what the ingredients that he was collecting were for. The only thing that had been missing was the blood of the one whom had opened the chamber – he had it all now… immortality, power, youth… and his Ginevra.

Voldemort was surprised at the feelings he felt towards her, feelings which had been dormant for so long, and which were unexpectedly strong towards the red haired witch. Had his youthful form really felt that way towards the girl? He entertainingly recalled the memories which accompanied the diary, drinking the feelings he experienced like a man drinking water after a sojourn in the desert. He scoffed at Ginevra's foolish diary entries, feeling pleased as he recalled consuming her soul, enraged as he experienced defeat by Harry Potter, and the strange feeling resurfaced as he remembered Ginevra when she was with him in the chamber, one such memory particularly strong.

--

"Do you believe in God?"

Tom did not answer at first. He contemplated the question, amazed that a girl he had originally thought to be weak-minded and fickle could ask such a question. Her tone was flat and dull, quite a contrast from the rich, lively voice he heard when he would visit her in her dreams. It was now the tone of a victim who had already accepted her fate. Her appearance also reflected a change in mindset; her fiery locks appeared limp, and her once rosy cheeks were as pale and sallow.

They were both sitting on the stony floor of the secret chamber, Tom tolerating her presence only because he was convinced it was temporary. He too had a thirst for knowledge; he wanted to satiate hers as much as possible. He viewed this as an act of generosity.

Did he believe in God? No. He'd had enough of religion; he was his own god now. He remembered living at that awful orphanage, where he would have to memorize verses and psalms… bullshit in his own opinion. Little more than fairytales. The matron would scare them with stories of hell, demons, and pits of fire, so that they would behave as "good little boys should."

It was at the orphanage where he realized his talent for acting – tears rolled down his cheeks, a show for the other children, as the paramedics removed the matron's body one summer night, the same day as his thirteenth birthday. "Unnatural," he had heard someone say during one of their weekly church visits, "Eyes wide open, expression of terror on her face… other than that, she was perfectly healthy. If I hadn't known better I'd say she was frightened to death!"

He was shaken out of his thoughts as Ginny repeated the question. "Do you believe in God?"

He was ready to answer now. "No," he said, "I don't, and you shouldn't either." She tore her eyes away from a rat's skeleton in the corner and turned to face him. "Why?" she asked. Tom was shocked. "How can you still believe in God? Even now, when you're about to die, how can you still believe there's still a benevolent force above you?" "Because if there's no God, there's no heaven, and I don't want to stop being." His heart missed a beat. He turned to face Ginevra Weasley, the eleven year old girl he had deceived, abused, brainwashed and planned to kill. Why was he suddenly feeling so guilty? She was unnatural.

He heard a sound of footsteps in the distance; her savior was arriving. He kissed her pale lips, and faced the chamber's entrance.

--

Years had harbored him against guilt, and what he had felt then was separated from him now, as energy and passion finally reemerged inside of him. He wanted his trophy at last, and he always got what he wanted. He had waited long enough, Voldemort decided, to take what was rightfully his.

Ginny slowly walked backwards as she saw him approach, as her mother had always cautioned her to do were she to see a wolf while by the Burrow. Yet Voldemort was impatient, and with a sudden movement of his arms he pulled her towards him, holding her by his wrists. He could tell that she was frightened, drowning in agony, yet he cared not.

Ginny felt his lips graze her ears, hearing him whisper in a voice that caused coldness to engulf her. "We're king and queen, Ginevra," he said, "and there is nothing you can do about it."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry for this intermediate chapter, it's not particularly action packed but it does explain things.

_'I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel  
I'm cold and I am shamed lying naked on the floor  
Illusion never changed into something real  
I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn  
I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel  
I'm cold and I'm ashamed bound and broken on the floor  
You're a little late, I'm already torn'_

**Torn by Natalie Imbruglia**

The grey eyed man tentatively opened the heavy door with the bronze key, carrying a heavy tray of food in his other arm. Struggling, he managed to open the door and quickly entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Draco looked in disgust at the appalling condition of the room, knowing however that soon she would be transferred to a chamber of higher caliber, and not for her own good.

His eyes lowered as he saw Ginny slumped upon the floor, where she had been left the night before. He wondered whether she was asleep as he gently laid the tray upon the floor, disgruntled at having to do servant's work. Malfoys do not bow down to others, he had told his father once, and the consequences were grave for such speech. He learned never to voice his true opinions again.

Ginny slowly turned towards him, dark circles under her eyes. "Please no… not again…" she muttered, her sight blurry from emotional and physical exhaustion. And who wouldn't be after such torture? Draco thought as his eyes took in the ripped, bloody dress. A wave of anger and disgust came over him… he hated Voldemort, every little thing about him. He hated his hypocrisy, his followers, his father, the mission he had been made to do and how he had been made to do it, he hated himself for being a coward… the Weaselette had been right, he recalled, when she had uncovered herself to the worst man possible. His father was magnificent when it came to Occlumency, sensing that his son was trying to hide something and ripping the knowledge away by force. It was his entire fault, he sadly thought, that she was here.

Yet till he felt brave enough to approach the other side, he was resolute to mend his mistakes as much as he could. Draco wished that Snape was here – during the whole terrible summer he had been his guide, his advisor… yet he was gone on a mission of his own when Draco needed him the most, only to return in several days. Removing two tiny potions from his cloak pocket, all that he could fit inside, he gingerly raised Ginevra's head, coaxing her to drink them. Yet all that Ginny could see was the dark mark upon his arm, and her delicious mutterings soon were accompanied by a feeble struggle. Slowly, Draco finally managed to have her fully down the blood replenishing and dreamless sleep potion. It would give her two hours worth of sleep.

Lifting her up and placing her upon her bed, Draco sighed. He remembered when just a year before his only worries had been how to give Harry and his friends the hardest time he could. Becoming a death eater, the destiny that had shadowed his life for as long as he could remember, had seemed so distant and far away. War turns children into men, he supposed, whether they are ready or not. In a different light, Draco gazed at the witch whom he had once seen as naught but red hair and a second-hand cloak.

Her pale face, which he knew could appear angelic and saintly under a different moon, reminded him now of a martyr instead. She had been through much, he knew, both now and in her second year as well. He had been surprised when he learned that it had been the little Weaselette who was opening the chamber. Full of naivety and youth, he had wanted to join the culprit. Little did he know of what it took for a man to kill, torture, rape... It was his father, he knew, who had handed her the wretched diary, and he had paid dearly for his mistake. Draco knew that his father had hoped to regain his status by the kidnapping of Alucinor and the final key to the potion. Men will do everything for power, he thought disgustedly. He could bring upon his downfall, he knew, were Ginny to simply… disappear.

He cared for Ginny, for a reason unknown. She was beautiful, intelligent, a pureblood, but there was something else which he could not understand. Maybe it was because she had always seemed so good to him, she seemed to make Harry so much happier, that he craved her like a man in the darkness craves the light. Maybe it was simply because she was Potter's. Yet he had dared not approach her, for their two families were enemies in more ways than one. What happened during the attack on Diagon Alley had occurred solely because he was lost in relief that she was unhurt, the rest frustratingly unexplainable to the young wizard. He knew that he owed it to her, Potter and himself to get her out of this wretched place, regardless of the implications upon his father. But how? And then he remembered when, years ago, he had been brought into a similar room as punishment by his father, the first time that he had lost to Harry in Quidditch. A house elf had come to him with a message from his mother, he recalled, and she had later paid much as consequence at the hands of his father. What she had told him was how to escape, and perchance it would work again.

His hands shaking at his mutinous thoughts, Draco left the room, knowing the consequences were Voldemort to see him be longer than necessary by Ginevra's side.

Almost two hours later, with a plan already fully formed inside his mind, Draco returned under the pretense of returning the tray. Ginny was just beginning to stir, her eyes widening in confusion as she saw him besides her. "What now?" she wearily said again, though this time much stronger than before. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said resolutely, "I'm going to help you escape." Yet Ginny seemed to disbelieve him, continuing to plead in a weak voice to leave her alone, to stop, she was only a child…

Draco sighed, feeling at a loss. She was obviously still in shock, yet what could make her snap out of it? During the first thing that came to mind, he removed the chain from around her neck, and made her meet his eyes. This time, Ginny did not voice out his thoughts, yet the uncomfortable feeling that someone was probing his thoughts returned. What would she do? Would she hate him because it was his fault that she was here? Apprehensive, Draco was taken completely off guard as Ginny weakly raised herself just high enough to place her arms around him, and began sobbing uncontrollably into his chest.

Draco was confused, never having had a girl sobbing into his chest before. Tentatively, he rubbed her back with his shaking hand, whispering soothing words to her as he figured that he should do. He did not need to be an Alucinor to know that after cruelty, kindness could be devastating. Draco wondered what he would have thought had this happened just a few months before. He simply could not understand how someone could be so cruel to someone – and a girl and a pureblood at that.

When the young witch had finally calmed down, Draco told her of his plans. He was apprehensive as to whether she was strong enough to leave on her own, and wandless as well, yet Ginny was adamant and they both knew that she had to leave as soon as possible. Carefully placing the chain around her neck, Draco guided the pale witch, as feeble as an autumn leaf, to the third stone to the left of the metal bars. Draco was worried by the look in her eyes as Ginny neared them, yet pushed it aside in favor of more pressing matters. Hurriedly saying 'Aberatio Cadacus', a door appeared suddenly in the wall. Taking one last look at each other, Ginny whispered a soft thank you; staggering slightly, she disappeared behind the door.


	9. Chapter 9

At first, Ron alternated the endless days by sitting in silence in front of the Burrow fireplace – speaking, eating and sleeping little ever since his little sister's abduction. As the fire devoured ember after ember, he clung in despair and disbelief to their only concrete hope: Snape's return. Yet the man was running late, and since the predicted time of his arrival had become the property of the past, Ron only further became like a wave battered rock in the sea, distancing himself from the world.

Hermione sighed as she glanced at Ron from across a book on advance defensive magic. She had hoped that his desolateness was just a result from the shock of her abduction, yet as the days passed he simply grew more distant. Removing herself from the age-worn couch, she walked towards the redhead, putting her arms around him as she stood behind the armchair he was sitting upon, and leaning down to gently speak into his ear. "I'm sure he'll be here soon," she said in a reassuring voice as she nervously tucked a lock of bushy brown hair behind her ear, "and then we'll get Ginny back, I promise."

She forced herself to weakly smile as she peered into Ron's eyes as he looked back to see her, hoping to reassure him. Yet the sudden look of anger which appeared upon his face took her by surprise, and he rose from the armchair to face his friend, whom had stepped back in shock from the strongest outburst of emotion which he had shown for days. "Maybe Harry is right about him!" he cried, "Maybe it's Snape's fault that she was taken in the first place!" Hermione's mouth was open, yet before she could reply he continued, his voice growing louder as he spoke.

'I am sick of waiting! I am sick of being helpless day and night while my sister may be dead for all I know, with nothing to do but wait for bloody Snape!"

He took a step towards Hermione, holding her wrists so tightly that were it not for her trust in him, she would have feared that they would break. The firelight flickered, the reflection dancing in his eyes and giving them a madman's quality.

"Don't you understand, Hermione?" Ron's voice suddenly broke off; he looked away into the fire for a moment before he continued in barely more than a whisper. "They can be torturing her, murdering her, right now and there is nothing that I can do…"

His voice was hushed and pained, a stark contrast from the fiery monster unleashed just moments before.

He sighed, releasing Hermione's wrists as he looked down tentatively. They stood in silence for a few moments before he resumed speaking.

"When she was little, she would always turn to me for help." Ron stared into the shadows behind Hermione, memories dancing before his eyes. "Whenever Fred or George would pick on her, or if she scraped her knee falling from climbing a tree, she wouldn't go running off to Mum. She'd come to me… and I had always been able to help her."

Ron began to pace around the room, speaking more to himself than to Hermione.

"But then, in her first year, she had tried to come to me! She had tried to tell me! But circumstances drew her away…"

Slowly, Ron seated himself upon the tattered sofa. "Since then, she's been different, as though a different Ginny had been returned from the chamber."

"I overhead some people talking about her once… they referred to her as 'damaged goods'. She was 'damaged goods' and I couldn't fix her! And she was doing so well lately, but now there'll be no chance of my Ginny ever returned… if she's still alive."

He looked up, trying to cage the tears inside of him. 'The Order was right to decide to withhold him from Harry's visions." Hermione thought as she sat down besides him, seeing the pain in his eyes.

Hermione put her arm around him, pulling her close. She knew that now, any words of hers were superfluous. Ron could not restrain himself any longer, and soon he was sobbing into his best friend's shoulder, releasing all the torrents of emotion which he had up till now been denying.

At last Ron's sobs subsided. He looked at Hermione, an embarrassed look in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have-" Hermione quickly interrupted him. "Don't be!" she said firmly, "and Ginny is a strong young woman, she didn't emerge from the chamber as 'damaged goods', she returned stronger than before." Her tone became suddenly resolute. "She has been to hell and back, Ron," she said, "and she will do it again."

The silence that ensued did not last for long, as a pop besides them indicated that someone had just apparated into the Burrow.

The silence in the Order meeting room was so thick that it could be sliced by a dagger, engulfing all present in its ominous presence. A disconcerting atmosphere lay over the house, for the only man who would be able to help the Weasley daughter was supposed to have arrived the very morning. Not immune to this, Lupin's eyes were weighed down with concern and responsibility, still unaccustomed to having taken over the job as head of the Order following Dumbledore's demise.

Ever since Voldemort's rejuvenation, Harry had been plagued by occasional visions in which he was forced to witness Voldemort's actions through the Dark Lord's eyes. He had isolated himself in the attic, with solely the family ghoul for company. Molly Weasley would rush up every once in a while, soothing him as he told her what he had witnessed between cries of pain from his scar.

Taking pity upon the young wizard, Lupin had offered him a dreamless sleep potion, yet Harry had refused. As his scar seared into him in flashes of pain, he claimed that his visions would aid in her retrieval. Harry still loved her, Lupin knew, and understanding Harry as he did, he was certain that the black haired wizard must be feeling torrents of guilt from her abduction. And still, he forced himself to suffer pain as his scar burned a blood red and he saw Ginny being raped, tortured, suffering through the eyes of the culprit… it made Lupin certain that Voldemort was purposely forging the connection.

Lupin knew that Ginny had to be taken out of there as soon as possible, yet they were immobilized without Snape, and he was missing. That thought returned him to the present.

He was about to question Shacklebolt, who had just finished contacting the Peruvian minister of magic, when the door burst open. Ron entered the room, blood covering his maroon jumper. "Lupin…" he said in a terrorized voice, "He's back."


	10. Chapter 10

Placing her hands upon the cold, damp walls, Ginny slowly descended the dark staircase. It seemed to wind down, up, and to the sides endlessly, and already her head was spinning, her body too weak for exertion. Yet hope kept her going as she reminded herself, whenever she staggered and slipped, of the freedom that awaited her ahead, and of what laid behind her.

When Ginny's feet approached terra firma, she could scarcely believe it. Around her was a stone chamber with only two exits – the staircase behind her and a wooden door ahead. Moonlight filtered through the glass windows up ahead, illuminating the way to the door and a large statue of a regal lion besides it. Ginny suddenly felt the chilly, unnerving sensation that she was being watched, and indeed had scarcely moved towards the door when the statue sprang to life, gracefully stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

Her eyes widened in fright, knowing that she was wandless and weak. Yet as the creature came nearer in feline grace, Ginny saw that it was a sphinx – she had a chance. "Fear not, mortal," the sphinx said in a voice reminiscent of poisonous honey, accompanied by a barely audible purr as she paced back and forth in front of her. "You may pass, if you answer my riddle. Keep silent and you may retreat. Get it wrong and… Well, I am quite hungry…"

Ginny knew that there was no turning back. "Tell me the riddle," she said in a weak, trembling voice. At once, the sphinx began to speak.

_"This thing all things devours,_

_Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;_

_Gnaws iron, bites steel;_

_Grinds hard stones to meal;_

_Slays king, ruins town,_

_And beats high mountain down"_

Ginny was horrified – she didn't know the answer! If only she had more… that was it! "It's time!" she exclaimed. "That is correct," the sphinx said in a disappointed tone as she returned to the shadows, "you may pass." As quickly as she had appeared, the sphinx became naught but a statue once more.

Filled with relief and trepidation, Ginny exited through the door into the unknown.

Draco closed his eyes, relieved that he had managed to get Ginny out of the castle, yet worried about what lay ahead. He was sure that Lucius would have made sure that the passage was secured after he found out how his only child had escaped from punishment, but with what? And would Ginny, wandless and weak, be able to pass through it? It was necessary to stay in the cell, pretending that Ginny had used Alucinor to extract information on how to escape, or suspicions would arrive and the consequences would be grave. Yet what if he had only released her to her death? Making up his mind, Draco began his hurried journey down through the dark stairway, his wand close beside him.

Snape's face turned from indifference to irritation as he slapped an insect that was currently feasting upon his blood, missing the irksome creature. Giving up on muggle ways he surreptitiously cast a silent spell to ward him of the pests, and then resumed to take in the lush, tropical air that surrounded him with its mysterious fragrance.

Swiftly returning his wand, he rested his arms upon the wooden table damp with humidity. Always on his missions to the plant-rich Peruvian landscape he would stop at this small bar, taking his customary seat

He slipped his wand back under his robe, and rested his arm on the humid table.He loved this place, over the few days that he'd been in Peru he would always stop by this high altitude bar, resting at his usual place upon the veranda. The view was beautiful, the ground below covered with rainforest distraught only by a river which carried the traders that made this place prosperous. Yet even that could not distract Snape from his thoughts, his guilt, and his remorse.

Day and night it haunted him, reminded itself to him wherever he went – he had killed Dumbledore. All in the name of the Order, he kept reminding himself in a desperate mantra, yet that did not change the fact that perchance the only man who fully trusted him was now dead, by his own wand. Yet solemnly he knew that there was a strange comfort to be found after he had spoken the two fatal words, and no longer faced indecision. He had gone deep undercover, and in such depths the loathing and guilt one feels are too far away to penetrate the dark waters.

It is time to return, he thought. He was more alert than usual, for Peru was a dangerous place at the time. Muggle guerillas were creating political instability, and anarchy was omnipresent. Even in his tropical haven evil could seep through. He had only stepped inside the interior of the bar when voices reached his ear, loud, arguing voices about a certain overdue payment. Snape's experience shouted from within to leave as soon as possible, yet he was not even halfway through the door when the gunshot sounded.

Looking back, he saw a dark, slightly potbellied man holding a gun in shaking hands, staring in disbelief at the body at his feet.

"You don't say anything to no one, you hear me?" he yelled, a slight quaver in his voice, the gun still held tightly within his clammy hands.

Snape did nothing but nod, slowly stepping backwards. He slowly reached into his robes, wishing to clandestinely seize his wand, yet the gesture was misinterpreted. Before Snape could stop it, a bullet shot through him, as the man fled in a hurry through the back door.

Looking down at his bleeding abdomen, Snape gritted his teeth and began to do what he could, knowing that he would have to find a way to apparate across the Atlantic as soon as possible. He summoned the bullet, yet the bullet that sped to his hand was covered with the dead man's blood, not his own. His magic was clearly unfocused due to the injury. Yet a second attempt removed the bullet from his abdomen, bringing instead another torrent of pain and a sudden feeling of dizziness, the world appearing to darken around him. He had only just managed to perform a blood replenishing spell when the inevitable occurred, and his consciousness faded away.

When the wizard awoke, light was brilliantly fighting its last battle as darkness threatened to conquer the skies. Alone in the abandoned restaurant, Snape pondered whether he would survive the night, as his magic faded and his wound continued to bleed inside of him. He had but one option, he realized – Vis Dare. Only that plant would replenish his magic strongly enough in order for him to return to England.

In great pain and gritted teeth, Snape raised himself upon his feet. Each harrowing step he took increased his agony, and it soon became apparent that he could not find Vis Dare himself. Resting himself upon the ground only meters from the restaurant, his eyes met those of a boy returning from his evening chores. "You, boy!" he shouted. The young lad, small with ragged clothes and a dirty face, looked at him quizzically. "Yes, you!" Snape said hastily, and the boy tentatively approached him, keeping a good distance away from the frightening man with his blood soaked clothes.

Removing a substantial amount of Peruvian New Sols from his pocket, Snape described Vi s Dare to the lad, and the trade become apparent. The young boy walked quickly back towards the forest, hurried by the black haired man. A bead of sweat crawled down Snape's face as he readjusted his position, attempting in vain to alleviate his pain. Now, all he had to do was wait.

It was only twenty minutes, yet it was an eternity for the potions master till the boy returned. He handed him the plant and then snatched the money, probably more than he had ever held in his hands. He quickly returned to his home, the dying sun ahead of him, leaving the man alone.

Immediately once the lad was out of sight, Snape chewed the purple leaves. At once, euphoria coursed through his veins, and Snape leapt to his feet. It is but temporary, he reminded himself grimly as he crossed the Atlantic, apparating to the Burrow.


	11. Chapter 11

She was his favorite of the other six. With her fiery red hair and dragon spirit, Charlie had always shared a kinship with his only sister. He was her protector, and she was his savior.

He took the first portkey home when he heard of her abduction, sharing grief, hope and anger with the rest. And he too had felt a candle extinguish within him when he heard that it might be days, weeks, months… nobody knew when their only tangible hope would resume consciousness. He was being treated by a St. Mungo's healer and Order member upstairs, Hermione as his assistant. Charlie could run his numb fingers through black hair, caress a pale face, he was _here_, yet he was useless.

So they waited. Time passed slowly as the cried, spoke, sat in silence and remembered, drinking themselves into oblivion as they kept stealing glances towards the door, as though she might come through it at any moment.

Snape had apparated the evening before, weak and covered with robes colored a deep shade of red, blood upon black. And Charlie could not help but worry about how the situation would end as he washed his hands after carrying the older man upstairs, sanguine water running down the faucet. He was not sure who would eventually win the great wizarding war; he did not know who to rely on or what to expect; however, he did know one thing for certain.

He wanted his sister back.

The cold night air felt almost affable against Ginny's skin as she ventured outside, taking a deep breath as the zephyr brushed against her. The fresh air was a welcomed respite from her imprisonment, and it sharpened her greatly needed senses.

She had been trapped in hell for days, though it felt like a lifetime. Tears ran down her cheeks… it was so hard, she had been through so much, and looking at the garden ahead of her she did not wish to think of what laid ahead. Yet, wandless and exhausted, she continued.

A heavy silence suffocated the maze of paths and flora, which was illuminated by twilight. A humid mist pervaded her, dampening her skin and giving the elegant, morbid plants an impregnable aura.

Slowly, Ginny continued, till her heart leapt as she spotted a gate. Its archaic features made her hope that it had been forgotten, yet she was not easily fooled. She had been proved, by the Sphinx, that there were obstacles ahead. Yet a calm, fatalistic mode enveloped her, and fear did not make her heart race or her hands tremble. She knew that were she forced to die or return, she would choose the former.

Deep hatred and loathing drowned her as she remembered the occurrences of the days past, so strong that she barely felt the tingling sensation that came upon her, as she discerned that she was being watched. She did not have time to react as a figure immediately stepped out of the mist, and a hand with long fingers was placed around her shoulders, grasping it cruelly and forcefully turning her around. Neither did she have the strength to scream as an icy blue gaze penetrated into her own, forcing her to set her eyes upon Tom Riddle.

"Good evening, Ginevra," he whispered maliciously. "Where do you think you're going?"


End file.
